


"Stay"

by heartbrokenshipper



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, Unilock, fem!Victor - Freeform, kind of, ugh idk, victor is not an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4245612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbrokenshipper/pseuds/heartbrokenshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stay, please"<br/>"Goodbye, Will"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Stay"<br/>"I intend to"</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Stay"

You’re walking down to Angelo’s when it happens. Before that, you were talking with John about the latest case, recounting the look on Anderson’s face when you finally solved it. John is smiling at you, and you are glad of it. Glad to see that smile after the whole Mark fiasco, almost as glad as you are to have her back. You’re not paying attention to where you’re going, which leads to you bumping into another woman. She’s tall, almost as tall as you, with black hair and dark skin. You’re all set to tell her off for being an idiot when you look at her face, and your words get caught in your throat. Dark brown eyes stare back at you from behind sleek, black framed spectacles, the woman’s expression as disbelieving as your own. After what feels like an eternity of locked eyes and held breaths, a small smile appears on the woman’s lips. “Hello, Will”

 

_The first time you meet her, it’s your first day back on campus. You’re walking along the football field. There’s a couple of students there, catching up, joking around. You’re thinking of turning back towards the dorms when a tiny dog- puppy, honestly- comes running up to you, and well, you’ve always been partial towards canines. You pick it up, cradling it in your arms. You’re so absorbed in it you don’t notice a girl make her way up to you. She has a lose leash in her hand, a bagpack slung over her right shoulder. She’s pretty, all striking features and lean muscle, even with worry etched all over her face._

_“I’m sorry” she says, “he’s a bit excited to be finally let out of the flat.” She takes the puppy from your arms and attaches the leash to the dog’s collar._

_“I’m Victor, by the way” she smiles, stretching her hand towards you, and you take it._

_“William Sherlock Scott Holmes” you answer, looking into her dark brown eyes._

_“Nice to meet you, Will.” No one else calls you that- you never let them. You let her, though, and you’re not sure why._

 

 

The next time you see her, she’s wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt- an outfit that reminds you of your uni days. She had to get to a meeting last time, but you exchanged numbers, promising to meet up. You ignored John’s questions all night, instead focusing on keeping the fluttering in your chest contained. You’ve been texting back and forth for a week, and she doesn’t seem to have lost any of the charm she had back in uni. Now she’s sitting across from you at a table right next to the window (she’s always liked that), listening intently as you recite one of your more amusing cases, and when she throws her head back and laughs, with one of her hands wrapped around her coffee mug and the other on your wrist, you can’t help but let lose the smile playing on your lips, and suddenly, you can’t remember why you ever thought you could live without hearing that sound again.

 

_She takes you out for ice cream. She’s easy enough to read- a year older than you, just starting her masters in economics, chain smoker, reading enthusiast, bisexual, intelligent, though not as much as you. She shouldn’t be interesting, you should be bored to death, but you find yourself unable to make any more rude comments after your first one was brushed off with a laugh. You listen as she tells you that she’s taking care of the puppy for her brother who’s currently on vacation. She’s extremely charming, flirts with you without realizing, and when she invites you to a party that Saturday at a friend’s house- you don’t ask how she’s managed to make friends this quick, it’s obvious, what with her good looks and amiable personality- you find yourself agreeing without any hesitation. She smiles, shakes your hand again, and leaves because she really should get the puppy back to the flat, but not before giving you her number and promising to pick you up from your dorm room for the party. You stare after her and try to figure out if you just got a date._

 

She takes you for a walk around London. You never did understand her fascination with aimless wanderings in cities, but you agree anyways, because you know how much she loves them. She talks about her latest assignment, something to do with an Argentinean city, and you know you should pay attention to what she’s saying, but you’re much more interested in the way her hands move when she gets to a particularly exciting part, or the way her eyebrows alone are more expressive than most people’s whole faces, or the way her mouth forms the words, her lips moulding around each syllable in the most wonderful way possible. She’s developed a bit of an accent, though you can’t place it to any one place. It sounds a bit French, and a bit German, and a bit Spanish, and a bit Indian, and a whole lot of other bits. She laughs when you shyly ask her about it, tells you she’s been traveling ever since uni finished. She looks at you with a look so full of adoration you can practically feel your insides melting and in that moment, you want nothing more than to lean in and press your lips to hers, but then a street performer catches her attention, and she’s off with a glint in her eyes, dragging you along by your hand, and that’s enough for now.

 

_The party is surprisingly not-boring, primarily because Victor has your hand in hers the whole time, and that feels extremely good, even if it means having to say polite hellos to what feels like a million people. Victor mostly hangs out with you, occasionally chatting with the host and other students she knows. She looks spectacular today, and you notice more than a few people trying to flirt with her. She declines them all though, and when the music finally comes on, drags you to the dance floor, and you feel the happiest you have in a long while. And when Victor kisses you outside your dorm room after, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her in closer and wish you never had to let go._

 

 

She’s in the flat this time. You’d forgotten she was coming over, gotten absorbed in an experiment. She doesn’t seem offended, though, used to your quirks, and instead starts on the pizza she brought along, asking you about the experiment and your latest case and so on. John is out of town for a reason you deleted, and you’re glad of it, glad to have Victor all to yourself, overcome by the feeling of possessiveness you’ve always felt for her. It’s a bit strange to feel that strongly for another person, but it’s Victor, and you’ve never been very rational when it comes to her.

“You never asked how I got in” Victor mock accuses, getting up to dispose of the empty pizza box and starting on her coffee.

“Figured Mrs. Hudson let you in” you say, and you know you’re right and that Victor knew you knew, so you wait for the point she’s been trying to make when she asked you this.

“Yep” she walks to your chair and smiles down at you, “she remembered me from Florida.”

 

_Florida. You’d been hesitant about coming, but Victor could be very convincing, with her lips on yours and her clever hands dancing across your skin. Victor’s brother was getting married, and the whole family was there. You couldn’t help but feel nervous the entire time, and Vic was obviously bored halfway through, so as soon as the cake is cut you both nick a bottle of wine and sneak out of the reception venue. You end up in the bathtub of yours and Vic’s room, a tiny bit too drunk and sloppily making out._

_The next morning, you wake in a tangle of limbs, and after a round of lazy morning sex Victor convinces you to explore the city. You run into a woman around your mother’s age who’s also from London. You help her get her abusive husband executed, and she offers you a place to stay if either one of you ever needs one. It did take a bit of work to convince the authorities, but the smile Victor gives you at the end of it all could keep you warm for the rest of your life. (And the sex that night was mind blowing)_

 

 

You’re sitting on your chair, nursing a cup of tea, with Victor across from you, sitting at John’s. You’re both chatting, reminiscing, when Victor’s expression shifts into something a bit sad and hopeful at the same time. She gets up, walks over to you. Leans down till her lips are centimeters from yours and cups your jaw in one hand. “I missed you” she whispers, and that’s all it takes for you to wrap your arms around her and pull her into your lap. Her lips are hesitant against yours, so you take charge, take her bottom lip in between both of yours and suck. She makes a cut off moan, and then her arms are around your neck and her hands are in your hair and her tongue is in your mouth doing all sorts of wonderful things and you let yourself be pulled completely into _heat_ and _tongues_ and _lips_ and _Victor._

 

_“I got a job, Will. They want me to write for a travel show. I’ll get to go around the globe. It’ll be wonderful.”_

_“You’re leaving?”_

_“Travelling, Will! And writing. I have to”_

_“Go, then. Not like you were ever going to stay.”_

_“I’m sorry, Will”_

_“That you’re leaving?”_

_“That I’m leaving you.”_

_She brushes her lips against yours, so lightly it’s hardly a kiss, but when you reach out to pull her closer she catches your wrists in a gentle grip and pulls away._

_“Stay.” The word is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and now she looks so sad, sadder than she did before, and you’d do anything to make sure she’s never sad again._

_“Goodbye, Will” she says, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek, and then she’s gone and you’re all alone and it feels like you’re breaking down on the inside._

_When Mycroft sees you next you’re half unconscious with a needle sticking out your arm. He never does leave you alone after that._

 

You wake up alone the next morning, and for a moment you can’t help but be filled with dread because of course she left, what were you thinking, she was never yours and never would be and now you’ve gotten your heart broken all over again- but then you hear voices coming from the living room, ones that you could recognize no matter what. So you pull on your robe and walk out of your room to find her there, sitting on the sofa wearing pyjama bottoms a size too big and your old Cambrdige t-shirt, nursing a steaming mug of coffee and talking amicably to John who shoots you a sly smirk before excusing herself to the kitchen. You’re just standing there, staring at her, and she’s looking at you curiously but you can’t seem to stop, and your legs carry you forward as if they’ve got a will of their own. You kiss her, and she makes a small noise of surprise before putting her free hand on your waist and kissing back. You part when the need to breathe gets too big to ignore, and automatically rest your forehead against hers.

“That” she says, in between pants, “was an extremely thorough good morning kiss. Not that I’m complaining, of course. Just wondering.”

“Stay” is all you can manage to get out; overcome with emotions you haven’t let yourself feel in years.

“I intend to”


End file.
